


Watch me trough the night

by MilkyMint



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But mostly fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, some feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyMint/pseuds/MilkyMint
Summary: Crowley is overeager to share one of his favorite hobbies with his favorite Angel. Aziraphale tries his best.





	Watch me trough the night

**Author's Note:**

> Strange capitalisation is 80% for jokes and 20% me being german.

Like most of the conversations Aziraphale had with Crowley, the one of their after-lunch walk had meandered through a wide variety of topics.

They'd gone from emperor penguins to Marcus Aurelius, to crab-fishing, to finally the newest self-improvement fad of listening to educational material in your sleep, which was heavily advertised around town and on which Crowley had Opinions.

“I mean sleep is supposed to be just for fun,” he grumbled. “Not for humans I guess, they need it for some reason, but for us it's just nice.”

“You'd know better than me.”, Aziraphale said lightly.

It took him several steps to notice that Crowley had stopped in his tracks and was staring at him with an incredulous expression.

“Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that you haven't slept at all? Ever? In the last six thousand years?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“I guess I never saw the point. Why spend time unconscious when you could be doing something productive?”

“Oh, but sleep is great! You've got to try sleep!”

Crowley looked off into the distance for a moment, then focused back on Aziraphale.

“Alright, you come over to my place at six, no wait. Seven. I have to get some stuff, but you get there and I'm going to give you the best start into your sleeping experience you could imagine!”

Aziraphale hesitated. It wasn't that he hated the idea of sleep, obviously it played some part in the human design, and he knew Crowley had gotten into the habit at some point.

But he didn't need it, and he'd planned to re-sort the 17th century poetry section tonight.

He voiced that concern, but Crowley wouldn't accept it.

“Come on Angel! Your poetry will still be there tomorrow! You get to try something really new today!”

Aziraphale thought of protesting further, but he knew the battles was lost. Crowley had that look on him he got when he was struck with an idea for a Great Project.

He could almost see the itemized list the demon was writing in his head.

So he just said:" It's a date", and watched as Crowley hurried away with barely any goodbye.

When he arrived at Crowley' s Apartment ten minutes to seven, he wasn't sure what to expect. He'd probably get a presentation, or a talk, or even a pamphlet. Aziraphale really hoped it wouldn't come to pamphlets. He could never quite decide how to catalog them.

Before he could even knock, Crowley threw open the door, gave him a quick kiss, and ushered him into the apartment, past The Statue, and into the living room, with it's spare walls, and big windows and white leather sofa and- oh no. The demon had gotten the Flip Chart out.

“If you would kindly take your seat.”

Aziraphale pointedly looked at the row of row of folding chairs arranged in a semi circle around the Flip Chart.

“Is there anyone else coming?”

Crowley ignored him and walked over to the dreadful instrument of torture.

He looked at Aziraphale with raised eyebrows, until the Angel sighed and took his seat in the middle of the first row.

“Ahem. Thank you for your attendance on today's Seminar. The topic of the day is-”

He dramatically ripped of the top layer of paper, to reveal a title scrawled in big letters and surrounded by little doodles of what looked like clouds, but also may have been sheep.

“Going to sleep for beginners!”

Aziraphale clapped politely, and if Crowley registered the sliver of sarcasm, he didn't react to it.

Instead he flipped the title page over to the next point.

“First Step: Proper attire!”

“My clothes are proper!” Aziraphale protested. This was one of the constants of the earth. The sun had always risen in the east, the tides had always ebbed and flowed, humans had always stacked pebbles for no discernible reason, and Aziraphale had always been properly dressed.

But Crowley shook his head.“The right clothes get you in the right head space, Angel. You can sleep in your fifteen layers of fabric, but it won't be any fun. Which is why I got you something!”

He abandoned the Flip Chart and hurried to the sofa.

“They are comfortable! They are made from 100 percent ethically sourced cotton. They are from a real store and I bought them with actual money like a chump, so you have to wear them."

He reached down, dragged a mauve gift bag from behind the cushions, and presented it to Aziraphale.

"Pajamas!"

Aziraphale opened the bag and inspected the blue and white check pattern pajamas inside.

"Those don't look like your style. "

"Because they are for you. You have to give your audience what they want."

"And you know that is not actual tartan."

"Up to a point. Get changed! "Crowley snapped his fingers and grinned at Aziraphale out of his black silk pajamas.

The angel took some more time to change, because he made a point of actually taking his clothes off and folding them neatly. He ignored Crowley impatient noises from where he was perched on the sofa, and took extra care rolling up his socks.

Once Aziraphale was dressed in the, admittedly very soft pajamas, Crowley went back to the Flip Chart.

“Second Step: Rituals and auxiliary means.”

He turned the page over to reveal a list of at least two hundred items, written out in seven different colors. If there was any system behind the color coding, angelic intelligence wasn't enough to crack it. Aziraphale gave up when he saw that 'Incense' and 'Death Metal' were both in purple.

“As you can see, there's a lot of options, from brushing your teeth to exercise, and most of them-”Crowley drew a red circle around a good half of the list, “are pretty awful.

But, I've made a small selection of things that are the least awful, and might work for you. Just try whatever feels natural, and give me some feedback!” He waved a hand, and the side table groaned under a sudden pile of miscellaneous items.

Aziraphale looked over the tubs of skincare products, concerning amount of electronics, various food items, and picked up a candle.

“With the enticing aroma of chicken fried bacon?” he quoted the label.

“Yeah, its horrible. Smell it!.”

“Pass.” He set the candle back down and decided to play it safe.

“I guess I'll have the chamomile tea?”

“An excellent choice!” Crowley snapped his fingers and pressed a steaming mug into his hand.

Aziraphale cradled the warm mug and looked from the table back to the Flip Chart.

“There are fifteen kinds of alcohol on your list, but you didn't include it in the selection. Any reason for that?”

Crowley nodded solemnly. “Alcohol gives you a totally different experience, wouldn't recommend it for your first time. But if you want to-”

“No, no, I trust your judgment in this.”He took a long, slow sip of tea, that would have scalded his throat, if he allowed such things.

Crowley sat down on the sofa. He attempted some calm casual conversation, which Aziraphale suspected was part of the process, but the effect was spoiled by the furtive glances the demon took into the cup every few minutes.

Once the tea was finished, Crowley bolted up and strode to the chart. He ripped of the last piece of paper to reveal the next step, which was written directly on the back of the chart. “And last, but definitely not least: Location. Follow me please!”

Crowley's bedroom was tucked away in the middle of the apartment. The walls were the same dark concrete as the other rooms, but without any windows or art to offset the oppressive feeling. The big bed barely fitted in. You could probably touch the wall without having to get up, but then you'd have to travel quite a way to touch the opposite wall.

It didn't feel like a place anyone would chose to spend time in. If anything, it reminded Aziraphale of a prison cell, maybe one designed with some cruel irony. 'You can sleep in comfort, but that is all you can do'. Sounded like something some royals would think up for their siblings.

" Isn't this a bit... isolated? "he asked, when Crowley had finished rattling on about ideal room temperature and humidity.

" That's the point! You get to lie in total darkness and silence, and just forget about everything and everyone outside of your own four walls."

"And you... want that?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah."

He gently pushed Aziraphale towards the bed until the angel sat down. Then he pulled a blanket out of thin air and handed it over.

"Now, blankets really depend on the day you're having. Sometimes they're great, and sometimes they suuuuck. I recommend you start with one, and if it doesn't feel good you just throw it on the floor. Very cathartic."

Aziraphale wrapped himself in the blanket and sank into the bed. Crowley bent over him and fussed with the pillow for a moment, and Aziraphale caught his eye.

“You were in Carhtage?” he asked. Crowley smiled.

“I'll tell you when you wake up. Sweet dreams, Angel.” And with that he kissed Aziraphale, sauntered out, and closed the door, leaving the room in pitch black.

Aziraphale adjusted his eyes to the dark. There was still nothing to see but the gray ceiling. He stared at it.

He considered the blanket and decided it wasn't for him. He got up and folded it together at the foot of the bed. He lay back down on his back in the middle of the bed and folded his hands on his chest.

He stared up at the ceiling.

He thought about things.

He stared at the ceiling some more.

Fifteen minutes after he started counting the seconds passing by, Crowley gently pushed open the door and poked his head in.

“Hey. Aziraphale. Are you asleep?”

“No.”

Crowley created a dim light in his hand and gave him a critical look.

“I mean, obviously you can't sleep like that. You look like you've been laid to rest. Scoot over.”

Aziraphale moved over to the right side of the bed, and Crowley sprawled out on the left, face down*. He turned his head towards Aziraphale.

“Try something like this.”

Aziraphale curled up on his side, and kept his head towards Crowley, so they were looking at each other. Or would have been, if Crowley hadn't closed his eyes and was making exaggerated breathing noises like a child miming sleep.

“Better?”, he asked during a break from the performance.

“No. I'm still thinking about-" the words came out before he could stop himself.

Crowley opened one eye.

"Thinking about what?"

"Oh, just the things I think about when I'm not doing anything. Things I need to do, things I want to do. “

He waited for Crowley to pick up the conversation, but the demon just propped his head up on his hands and looked at him expectantly.

Aziraphale sighed.

“And...some things I still feel like I'm supposed to do. Even though nobody is looking over my shoulder anymore and nobody is going to... I don't know, suddenly jump out at me and demand a justification.”

“Oh.”

“Like I said, it's silly, but this is where my mind went for the last half hour."

Crowley wriggled closer and took his hand.

“Hey. You want to know something stupid I did last week?”

Aziraphale almost said something biting, but the earnest expression on Crowley's face stopped him. He just nodded.

“I watched TV all day long and took notes on some truly miserable things, something I could put down in the paperwork as my own creation. That 'learn in your sleep' stuff ? Probably would have gotten me an award.” He sighed.

“Only I don't send paperwork down anymore. Nobody cares that I don't. So I wasted a perfectly average day watching bad TV for no reason at all. It's really so, so stupid.”

Aziraphale couldn't let this stand.

“Its not stupid, its a habit! One you've built over millennia, and it helped you survive, so it is only natural that it would take some time to- Ah.”

Crowley's smile was only a little smug.“Log, meet speck.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and turned back on his back, but didn't untangle his hand from Crowley's.

“So what do I do with this insight?”, he said towards the ceiling.

“I don't know, I'm still figuring it out myself. You could try forming new habits. Get a new hobby.”

Aziraphale turned to smile at him. “Sorry, I think sleep might just not be for me.”

Crowley suddenly looked calculating.

"Maybe,” he finally said slowly.”Or maybe this whole set up is just wrong for how your beautiful brain works. Give me a second."

Crowley let go and slid back on the bed until he sat with his back up against the wall.

He raised his hand and stared at the light intently, the dim glow making his eyes shine golden.

Finally he nodded, satisfied with a job well done, and beckoned Aziraphale to come closer.

"If you don't mind." It was a phrase, but one Crowley always used earnestly. Aziraphale didn't mind at all. He shifted until his head was resting in Crowley's lap.

“Alright”, said the demon softly. "Watch this."

He sent the light drifting upwards.

When it hit the ceiling, it burst open like an egg, and pure darkness spilled out.

The darkness spread over the ceiling, flowed down the walls and met under the bed, which now seemed to be drifting in a void.

And suddenly there was light.

It was small, and pale, and seemed to flicker. It looked like a star. It was a star. It was soon joined by others, blinking into existence in the center of the ceiling and drifting outwards in small groups and patterns.

They swirled into clusters, drifted trough the void, danced in the darkness. Aziraphale watched in awe as the starry sky crystallized around them.

One group that settled where he thought the door used to be caught his eye. It took him a moment to recognize the constellation.

"Is that Alpha Centauri?"

Crowley hummed an affirmative.

"Told you I'd take you there some day."

Aziraphale looked closer. He didn't know as much about space as Crowley, but something seemed off.

"Is it supposed to be this close to the Messier 25 Cluster? "

"Call it artistic license"

"Well, it's beautiful."

Aziraphale gazed into the cosmos, until he felt Crowley's hand on the back of his head, the contact almost to light to register.

They were still hesitant with their touches sometimes. Both were scouting out boundaries, for themselves and each other. That was fine, they had all the time in the world.

"That's nice." Another phrase that didn't mean much, until they had given it meaning over the past few months. The touch became more solid, but no less gentle. Soft, slow strokes that pulled away all the doubts swirling in his head.

He enjoyed the calm for a while before speaking again.

"I guess the lights are rather soothing."

"Hmm-hmm." Crowley replied drowsily.

It didn't take much longer for the demon to fall asleep, and Aziraphale was left listening to his slow breathing, the hand nestled in his hair, and the impresion that maybe sleep wasn't for him, but that he wouldn't mind trying a few more hundred times.

*And had to use only a very minor miracle not to slide off the silk sheets in his silk pajamas. Nobody ever said style was practical.


End file.
